Tag: Life & Nature

After the Fall




After the Fall


After falling through the fragmented cloud,
the rusty and weary traveller
appeared to be disoriented,
without his familiar protective shroud.
Escaping his country has been hazardous,
and he longs for a restful shelter.

However, until the stampede’s contaminated dust
is devoured by its own mistrust-

then, and only then,
will the Almighty Sun
incinerate the lingering clouds
and allow the world’s war-torn sky
to redeem his sacred ground.




A Malay Kris and a Cracked Brick Wall


Today’s poem is one of my verses, composed of comments/anecdotes I posted on some of my fellow WordPress writers’ articles during the month. In stanza order, they are.

1 – Nancy, Order Of The Snake – The Elephant’s Trunk
2 – Beth, expression. | I didn’t have my glasses on….
3 – Bart, Monday Poetry Prompt: Under the Cushions | Living Poetry
4 – Violet, Untouched by Regret | Thru Violet’s Lentz
5 – Ivor, A response to Nancy’s comment, https://ivorplumberpoet.press/2025/08/14/surprise-surprise-a-tanka/
6 – David, Breaking hours, or: Yet it flows – The Skeptic’s Kaddish 🇮🇱


A Malay Kris and a Cracked Brick Wall


I’ll twist and dismiss
your kiss and hiss.
Then, with my Malay kris,
I’ll swish you up like this.

Little cracks
and threads of black
are nature’s imperfections-
waiting for filaments of imagination.

Under my luxurious woollen cushion
lies an old copy of The Australian Bulletin.
Also, from Great-grand-dad’s mystical Galleon,
there’s a hand-woven chiffon for his Spanish woman. 

Regrets are like silhouettes-
they linger above your shoulders
like worn-out epaulettes
and burnt-out candle holders,
as shadowy images after sunset.

Line after line,
Time clutters my mind.
Will I be fine in time?

The sands of time
will forever fall through the hourglass,
and the shadows of time
always moves across the sundial.
Gravity continues to wear us down
and sunlight will always crack our mounds.








Ivor Steven (c) August 2025

Feeling Stumped, But Not Grumpy


I’ve only 12 days to go until I fly over to Canada. I’m on antibiotics and have been ordered to rest. Therefore, my blogging commitments will be minimal for the next 7days.


Feeling Stumped, But Not Grumpy


I have a badly inflamed throat
That feels like I’m swallowing
Broken needles and razor blades.
(Please don’t make me laugh.)

And I have an awful chest cough
That rattles and clangs
Like a grumpy polar bear in chains
On my rusty iron roof.

I’m physically lumpy and stumped,
But even though my body is trumped,
My mind is enthusiastic and pumped–
Ready for my flight to be happily humped










Ivor Steven (c) August 2025

“Nature’s Ponds”, is in this week’s Coffee House Writers Magazine edition.


Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Nature’s Ponds” is in this week’s edition.
To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article.
>> https://coffeehousewriters.com/natures-ponds/





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Until Eyes Hear Sound

Lulu Books >>  Until Eyes Hear Sound (lulu.com)




Perceptions:

Amazon >>  Perceptions : Steven, Ivor, Knight, Derrick: Amazon.com.au: Books
Lulu Books >>  Perceptions (lulu.com)




Tullawalla:

Amazon >> Tullawalla A Meeting Place Where My Empty Hands are Full of Memories and Rhymes : Steven, Ivor: Amazon.com.au: Books


OR: >> You may email me directly for a signed copy at
ivorrs20@gmail.com



Ivor Steven © August 2025

My Lunar Lullaby (a Tanka)

Last night’s moonrise over Corio Bay felt like nature’s gentle transition from winter to spring. This Tanka is my reflection (and Frankie’s) on that moment of quiet beauty.


Moonrise by the Bay — a quiet witness to winter’s farewell


My Lunar Lullaby (a Tanka)


Cobalt twilight sky,
With a pink full moon rising
Over a calm Bay-
Winter’s lunar finale,
My world’s springtime lullaby.





Ivor Steven (c) August 2025

Away With the Faeries


Over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word Circumspection.
To visit their fabulous site, please click HERE





Away With the Faeries



Walking in a dreamy haze,
Inside a bubble of days.

Yet hearing a silent morning chant,
From the intrigued missionary ant.

Talking to an unreadable cloud,
Ignoring the bewildered crowd.

Yet the sky is a warm winter blue,
And toes are sipping yesterday’s stew.

Meandering and wondering-
Then wandering toward today’s horizon.

A hessian bag of forests and mountains,
A stone’s throw away from tomorrow’s fountain.

An ocean beyond magpies and wallabies,
In a land of bearberries and faeries.






Ivor Steven (c) August 2025